


Tho' Your Dreams be Tossed and Blown (Walk On)

by rabidchild67



Series: Wangst [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Break Up, Crack, M/M, Talking Penis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 02:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal's dick tries to cheer him up after Peter breaks up with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tho' Your Dreams be Tossed and Blown (Walk On)

"This is Special Agent Peter Burke and you have reached my voice mail. Please leave a message.”

“Hey, Peter, it’s me. Listen, I woke up with a killer migraine, so I’m not going to be in today. I’m gonna try to get some sleep, so I’m turning my phone off. See you tomorrow. Bye.”

Neal tossed his Blackberry on the floor and flopped back into bed with a groan. He felt terrible and it had nothing to do with the throbbing in his head. Last night had been…well, one of the Top Ten worst in recent memory, if not his entire life. And it wasn’t as if he couldn’t have seen it coming.

He sighed heavily, wishing that he could just go to sleep and make this bad feeling go away, at least for a while. He felt a familiar stirring down below.

“You OK, guy?” his dick asked, its voice barely above a whisper.

“Leave me alone.”

His dick struggled against his sleep pants until its head just poked out under the waistband. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Peter’s right , though. It’s too risky for you two to have a relationship right now.”

“I know,” Neal said listlessly. “Intellectually, it all makes sense. It still hurts though, you know? It’s like we just got started and now…” he trailed off.

His dick twinged. “I get it, kid. I guess at least it’s over quickly, though, right? Before you guys got too serious?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Neal said sadly.

“If it means anything, me and the boys would like to sing you a song…”

“Please don’t.”

His dick ignored him, and began singing in a pleasant baritone, with his balls humming the melody, “ _When you walk through a storm, Keep your chin up high_.”

“Oh, brother.”

“ _And don't be afraaaaid of the daaaark_.”

“Please stop.”

“ _At the end of the storm  Is a gooooolden sky_ …”

“Ok, enough! Please.”

“We haven’t gotten to the end – it’s the best part!”

“I appreciate it, I do. You guys do care, I know. Thank you, really,” Neal said sincerely. “It’s nice not to feel so alone in this.”

“Anything, Neal. Anything. We hate to see you wallow.”

They lay together silently for a while, but then Neal's dick started to chub up.

“What are you doing?” Neal asked.

“Come on, how about a little wanky-wanky? It’ll help you relax,” his dick said cajolingly

“I don’t think so.”

“Come _on_ , beat me like I owe you money!”

“That’s kind of you to offer, but no thanks.”

Neal's dick sighed heavily, and shrank to its normal size. “I’m trying here,” it muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing! I was just talking to the boys.”

“What do they have to say?”

“They want you to cheer up too. They suggest a shopping spree.”

Neal seemed to be considering it.

“They want new underwear. Silk, maybe. And those Alexander McQueen linen pants at Barney’s. Come on, a little retail therapy, maybe a massage – fix you right up.”

“You might have something there. I’ll consider it.” Neal sighed, feeling marginally cheered up by the conversation.

Then Neal's phone rang. He cursed – he’d forgotten to shut off the ringer. He sat up and retrieved it from the floor. “That’s strange, it’s Sara. Why would she be calling me?” He decided to let the call go to voice mail.

“Oh, Sara!” came a chorus of three voices from between Neal's legs.

“What?”

“We like her,” Neal's dick said emphatically. “She’s pretty. Her pussy’s really nice.”

“Guys!”

“I mean, it’s kind and thoughtful and we like her. Jeez! Get your mind out of the gutter!”

“Sorry,” Neal said sheepishly.

“You should call her back. We think she might like you.”

“You think?”

“Sure. Get back on that horse, Neal. It’s the best thing for a broken heart.”

“Maybe later.”

“Call her! Call her!” chanted his balls.

Neal's heart started racing. “Yeah, why not. What could it hurt? At the very least, she’ll be someone to talk to.” He dialed the number and put the phone to his ear. “Sara? Hey, it’s Neal. Sorry I missed you.”

“ _Nothing’s impossible I have found_ ,” Neal's dick began to sing again, his balls filling in with some la-la-laaas. “ _For when my chin is on the ground_ … _I pick myself up, dust myself off...”_

Neal hastily reached his hand down and grasped his crotch, muffling their voices.

“ _Start all over again_!”

\----

Thank you for your time.

**Author's Note:**

> Song one is “You’ll Never Walk Alone” by Rodgers & Hammerstein, as featured in the musical Carousel. The title of this story is also from that song (Neal's dick didn't get that far).
> 
> Song two is “Pick Yourself Up” by Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields. My fave version is performed by Fred Astaire. 
> 
> Neal's dick is really into standards, apparently…


End file.
